Perchance to Dream
by Silver Bones in a Green Sauce
Summary: Jonathan/Jervis Scarecrow/Mad Hatter . He hadn't been planning on taking a vampire for his mate, but that's what happened. Really, it was the chap's own fault for trying to attack a werewolf in the first place-so he kept telling himself. He would never say that to Jonathan's face though; his new lover had quite the temper. He found it rather charming though.


The moon was high in the sky, luminous and nearly full, and as he stepped out of the warehouse, closing the door behind himself and making his way towards his favorite park, its allure made him feel deliciously alive. The Gotham sky was usually too murky for the light of his beloved to shine down on him the way that it was, covering him as he skipped along, but every once in a while, he would get lucky. Tonight, it seemed, would be one such night.

He would usually be reading on a Friday night, having no friends to spend time with instead—though he considered his books and the characters inside of them to be his friends. Work ended at a reasonable time, and he kept his pet mice there, so their company was out as well. He was rarely ever invited to social events, and though he could always invite himself, he chose not to; he did not wish to go alone, and though he could _persuade_ someone else into spending time with him, he had yet to find that perfect person to be with. He was a lonely person by nature, but he didn't want just anyone. It had to be _the _one—and _the _one never seened to be at parties or in clubs. No, he knew that _the _one would likely be somewhere more out in the open, somewhere where the moon could shine on them. Somewhere Jervis himself would be drawn to. It how people like himself worked.

An excitement filled him at the prospect of finding that one person for him. His already chipper steps became even more jovial, and he did a spin on the sidewalk before carrying on his merry way. As much as he loved Alice, he was glad he had left her and the rest of his friends at the warehouse he was staying in. Tonight felt like _the_ night.

Many other nights had also felt like _the _night, but he chose to not let that get him down. He wanted to be in a good mood when he found the person he so desperately needed, after all.

His steps stilled as the park he had been walking to came into sight. It was a true piece of beauty; abandoned for the most part, its rusty and broken attractions no longer luring children to it, the woods behind it, menacing and dark, the way that he liked. His nightly walks would almost always bring him to it, and there he would sit, the streetlight and rare light from the moon the only thing making him visible to the few people who would walk by, waiting for the person who would make him feel whole.

The sense that tonight would be _the _night grew because, for the first time that he could remember, he was not, in fact, alone, which had been his reason for stopping. He shook his shock off and took another step forward before stopping himself. He had to be ready just in case. He had to—

—his heart sped up and his stomach dropped simultaneously. He took a step backward instead of forward. He had been wrong—he had been _wrong_. He could tell it from his vantage point; he could tell it before a ray of moonlight shined down on the person standing by his usual seat at the swing, illuminating his face. He could smell—

—he made the mistake of stepping on a twig, snapping it. The redhead—Jervis had eyes well-adjusted to the night, and the light from the moon certainly helped—heard the sound from where he was standing, and his eyes, dark and expressionless, met his in a sturdy lock.

Jervis could pick up faint scents with his keen sense of smell: disgust, hatred, anger. He hadn't been paying attention before, so eager to find his mate, but now it was obvious. The person standing before him, arms crossed but surely able to defend himself in an instant, was hostile, was _dangerous_.

He was possessive by nature, even before fully coming into himself, and the man was in _his_ territory, so he was torn; he didn't want involved with what would surely happen if he went any closer, but he didn't want to give up his ground either.

It was when the redhead dropped his arms to his sides that Jervis made his decision; going against his natural instinct, he turned and ran.

He had never actually met a vampire, but he had a feeling he would be better off giving up his favorite park than having his neck snapped. Though the moon was nearly full, he knew that he wouldn't be strong enough to fight off the blood sucker. He couldn't hear the redhead behind him, but he could _sense _him following; he would never be quick enough. He could only hope to outfox—

—he tripped. He didn't fall though; catching himself before he hit the ground, he continued to run.

It was when he turned down a side-road that he realized he was being toyed with.

He should have been caught during his slip up. He could smell the elation coming from the redhead, hear his manic laughter. The vampire was enjoying the thrill of the hunt—something that was supposed to be _his _job.

A sudden thrill ran through him, one he usually only experienced during the full moon.

_'Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?'_

He would.

He took another turn, stopping only when he came to a fence. He was stuck, but he had known that it was a dead end. He turned around slowly, ready to face his attacker. He knew that vampires could smell fear, so he didn't bother to keep from smirking. Jervis could smell confidence coming off of the redhead in waves, and he clearly wasn't deterred by the fact that his prey was facing him instead of trying to flee.

"Imbecile! You ran right into that trap, like a hare to a snare!"

Jervis could feel himself quiver, but he didn't allow his smirk to drop, though it did dim. Something was coming off of the man, a scent he had missed before. It was unfamiliar and frightening, but at the same time arousing. It was—

—in a clear show of his surprise, Jervis' eyes widened and he gaped. The redhead's manic laughter rose a volume, pulling him out of it, and he snapped his mouth closed.

The vampire could sense his pheromones, could tell that he was in heat.

_'Oh dear. . .'_

He had given up many fights during his lifetime, his brain power far exceeding that of his physical being, despite his condition. This wouldn't be one of them though; he couldn't afford for it to be. A growl slipped from him, clashing with his still-shaking shoulders and hands, and the redhead stopped laughing, choosing to smirk instead. Jervis readied to pounce, his body becoming tense. He was prepared to do something in retaliation if he was attacked, something he had never done before, something he had been waiting to do to _the _one.

"Do you feel _fear_, little hare? Does it consume your whole being? Are you—"

It was then that Jervis jumped on him, causing them both to hit the ground painfully. It was a struggle—the vampire _was_ stronger than him—but Jervis refused to give in. The exhilaration from earlier was still rushing through him, and all he needed was a good angle. All he needed was one good—

—his teeth sunk into the redhead's neck; his prey—because their roles had certainly been switched—went completely still beneath him. Jervis knew that he couldn't help it; the venom his teeth was pumping into him did that to people, though this would be the first time he had ever actually tried using it on someone.

Memories were coming to him, another side-effect of what he was doing.

Jonathan—the vampire—wasn't much older than himself. Had been a farm boy, once upon a time. Rough family. Had a penchant for vengeance and a much, much larger one for causing fear in others. Was as smart as Jervis was. Was just as alone as Jervis had been his whole life—but, unlike Jervis, he _liked _it that way.

And Jervis had just ruined that for him.

The stream of memories broke off as Jervis' teeth withdrew from Jonathan's neck; he lapped at the blood pooling from it until the redhead weakly pushed at his chest, trying to shove him off. Jervis ran his tongue over the open wounds once more, his saliva sealing them closed, and then complied, standing. The vampire didn't try to rise with him, didn't try to escape. It was too late, and they both could feel the changes.

Jonathan was curling in on himself, shaking, when Jervis bent to pick him up.

He had been waiting his whole life for his perfect lady, an Alice of his very own, but he had just killed the chance of that ever happening. He had been right; this _would _be his night to find his one person—though it wasn't the person he had expecting.

Their beloved moon would be going down soon, and the werewolf began his short trek home, knowing that he would need to get his new mate inside before the sun burnt him alive.

Sometimes being a werewolf was trying, but now that he had someone to be with, he had hope, though he knew his new king was definitely going to be a handful when the venom wore off and he could move properly.


End file.
